


Contact! Shots Fired!

by Omnibard



Series: Dragons, Princesses, and Other Fairytales [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Merc!AU, Mercenaries, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibard/pseuds/Omnibard
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots, asks from tumblr, and drabbles for the merc!AU  'Dragons, Princesses, and Other Fairytales' series.





	Contact! Shots Fired!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prowlingthunder asked:  
> Fic request: Mamacat has made her home in Cor's office. Cor finds THE TINIEST litter of meowbabies have been born under his office desk
> 
> (Not exactly, precisely what you asked for, I’m sorry hon, but I think you’ll like this just the same!)
> 
> (This was also my Day 1 submission for "Cor Leonis Week 2018")
> 
> Day 1: “Cor finds a kitten or other cute fuzzy critter“

It was late when Cor returned to his tent at last.  The sun wasn’t even down, yet, but all he wanted was sleep.  He’d already waved off Highwind and her questions, and Boyscout and his offer of food– neither would be welcome until after he’d spent at least six hours studying the back of his eyelids under the cover of his bedroll.  Fortunately, nothing in the camp had changed in the last several weeks, so his space was already arranged just the way he wanted.

Except something smelled faintly like blood as he crouched down to unroll his bedding.  After a quick inspection in the fading light, he confirmed nothing had gotten into his bedding.  So he turned to his bag.  It was an old duffel style made out of synthetic leather with a main zippered compartment under a foldover flap that cinched down with a strap.  Usually the bag remained zipped shut and cinched tight, but immediately he could see that the cinching was rushed and the bag left only half-zipped.

He didn’t remember leaving it like that.

Of course, the last time he’d seen this bag was five full days ago, so his memory could be called into question.  Even so, Cor was old enough to have most of his rituals firmly in practice, and living with a large group of gruff, violent, acerbic, often-greedy, rabble-rousing assholes hadn’t made him less particular about his space and meager possessions.  Usually they knew better than to cross his lines in the sand– despite all their posturing and bluster, most of them knew they didn’t really want a piece of him.

Like that anyway.

Still, five days and an un-monitored bag might have been too much temptation for somebody.  So after a quick glance around the camp to see if anybody was paying particular attention–a prank was likely best enjoyed in the moment, he figured–he gave a deep sigh and un-cinched the bag, flipping back the flap.

That was when he heard the growl.  It was a small sound that started in a higher pitch, then swiftly sank into something low and reasonably threatening.  It gave him pause as he realized there was something alive and probably injured in there– if the blood scent meant anything– and that he wanted to keep all his fingers.

Before he could properly decide what he was going to do, the growl was echoed by a collection of tiny, insistent squeaks.

Frowning, Cor readied his belt knife in his other hand and tugged open the zipper, exposing the contents to the fading light of dusk.

Fluff.  Inside were a collection of tiny wriggling balls of fluff nestled against a somewhat larger fluff with glowing eyes that watched him carefully.  He stared back, taking the several moments to recognize that it was a cat–a domesticated variety that was either stray or had returned to its feral roots– and it’s fresh litter of kittens.

“Something wrong with your bag?” Jasper called curiously as he made his way past Cor’s tent toward the camp stove and his dinner.

“Cats.”

“What?”

“… A cat… made more cats in it.  Did someone put a pregnant cat in my bag?”

The red-haired younger man scoffed and rocked on his feet, as if unsure whether he wanted to step closer to the tent where Cor continued to stare at the unfamiliar contents of his bag, “You know this crew.  If somebody put an animal in there, it’d probably be a dead one.  Maybe it climbed in there itself?”

“Why would it climb in there to have kittens?”

“Warm, dark place, secure from the elements…” Jasper shrugged.

Cor’s frown deepened, “Smells like people, though.  Like me.”

“Maybe it’s not afraid of people.  Maybe it likes the way you smell.” The redhead chuckled.

“What’s the problem?” Flinting demanded, Chops and Dandy trailing her like usual.

“Kittens.” Jasper shrugged, grinning at Cor’s glare.

The brunette woman blinked her dark eyes at them both, then noted the open bag, “… Wait, really?”

“Aww, the old bastard’s a daddy?” Heckled the teal-haired, scarecrow built gunman. “Finally got some pussy?”

“Dandy…” The quiet, pale blond Chops warned with a sigh, already anticipating the old mercenary’s retaliation.

But Cor was too tired to bother with smart quips or piercing threats.  He just blinked at the young men, then looked at the grenadier, “Yes, Flin.  Really.”

Dandy shook his head, deciding on saying something practical since he’d failed to get a rise out of the taciturn older merc, “Just bag ‘em up and toss ‘em into the river, man.  If the bitch had them in there, everything’s a loss anyway.”

Jasper snorted, “Wow, Dandy, that doesn’t sound psychotic at all!”

“Fuck you, pretty boy.  That’s how you get rid of cats you can’t support.  My grandda’ did it all the time when he had a farm.”

“He– you can’t just drown them!  That’s terrible!  Should have shot them or something!” Flinting protested.

“Wow.  I’m out before I lose my appetite.”

“Good night.” Cor said meaningfully, putting just enough edge in his voice as he closed the flap of his tent and shut out the others.

Flinting and Dandy still argued the finer points of ‘litter management’ as they walked on.

Turning on his LED and hanging it on the tent post, Cor stripped his tac vest and holsters and arranging them for quick donning in the dark if necessary.  He checked his weapons and positioned them accordingly.

In his bag, the mother cat purred loudly.  Considering her carefully for a moment or so, the mercenary turned and opened the bag further and tilted the light to investigate, half expecting the cat to explode with fur and claws.  She didn’t move.  The kittens wriggled and mew’d and so Cor counted.  Six.

Six kittens.

Then he risked his hand and reached in to search the folds and crevices, discovering that the teal-haired smart-mouth was right about one thing: everything unsealed in his bag was ruined.

Seven.  Seven kittens.  This one had fallen into a small hole between his folded clothes and his shaving kit.  It was smaller than the others, and only protested slightly in his grasp.

They were all small, their ears and eyes not opened yet, though they were dry and fluffy.  Cor knew little about animals, but figure these were at least a few days old.  Mama cat and the majority of her kittens were striped like the one in his hand.  Two were black, one was a chalky sand color with patches of stripes.

Mama cat watched him with gleaming green eyes.  Blinking back at her, Cor tucked the runt against her belly where it found a teat to nurse.

“…Can you wait to eat until the morning?” He muttered to the unblinking green eyes.  Reliably, there was no answer.  Sighing, Cor fluffed the blanket that served as his pillow and lay back before reaching off to switch off the LED.

Mama cat continued to purr contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got questions? Want to talk about it? [Here's your mic! ](https://mtraki.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
